"He is very young," the Alcáide replied, undoubtedly confused, "very young; also he--he--is not well. I should do wrong to produce him before you in the state he is. As governor I must use my discretion," and he made a feint of being engaged with the papers before him.
Then I felt sure that he, too, knew Juan's secret, as I now did.
And I wondered to what advantage he might put that secret on behalf of Juan. Wondered while I felt glad at the thought which had now risen to my mind--the thought that, at last, Juan might be saved from our doom.
Again the Bishop said at this time--doubtless his worn old frame was fatigued by the morning's work:
"Let us rise. There is no more to be done, since--since--this youth cannot yet be brought before us," and once more he placed his white, shrunken hands upon the desk in front of him to obtain the necessary aid to quitting his seat.
But now the governor, whose name was Morales, made a motion of dissent, accompanying it, however, by soft, respectful words.
"Nay, most reverend father, nay," he said, "not yet, if you will graciously permit that we continue our examination farther," while as he spoke the Bishop sank back again with a wearied look of assent. "I am not satisfied."
"Not satisfied," the old man whispered, while the Regidór also echoed his words, though in far louder tones. "What is it you are not satisfied with, Capitan Morales?"
"With that man's testimony," he exclaimed, pointing his finger over his desk at Eaton. "In no manner of way satisfied," and as he spoke it almost seemed--I should have believed it to be so in any other country but Spain, a land of notorious injustice and love of cruelty for the sake of cruelty--as if the crowd in the court somewhat agreed with him. Also, even as he spoke, a voice shouted from the midst of those forming it:
"Ay! How knows he all this? Ask him that."